


History's Eyes

by mollymauks



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alucard has been alone too long and it's NOT GOOD FOR HIM!!!, Canon Compliant, Castlevania Netflix - Freeform, Multi, Post Season 2, Season 2 spoilers, also Cezar the undead dog makes an appearance bc Alucard needs a therapy pet and he's it, and then Sypha and Trevor came back bc that's what i need from life, it's all here, not super shippy but they're all there. and i ship them. and i think it shows., plus a lot of soul-searching/character introspection on Alucard's part, so his mother reached out from beyond the grave to help her boy, some angst! some humour! some fluff! a smidge of flirting!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: Prompted: Alucard finding some of Lisa's old journals as he sets the castle to rights. He contacts some old friends to help add a little bit of history that was overlooked in their epic conflict.'I opened it, and found pages covered with her neat handwriting. I traced the letters with the tip of a finger, as though they contained a spell by which I could return her to me, if only I could capture every neat contour of her words with my hands.'





	History's Eyes

It happened on the twelfth day.

Twelve days after my father’s death. Twelve days after my friends left me to my lonely juncture between the two worlds in which I belonged. The two worlds which I embodied.

Above the surface was the store of knowledge only possible to amass, and know, by an unnatural, immortal being like my father. Below, were vaults of books and information on how to kill monsters, and survive the unnatural, immortal beings like my father, passed down through the generations as my mother’s people would have done.

I was an unnatural, immortal being, of that there could be no doubt. But I had also killed monsters.

Both troves of knowledge were dangerous, and utterly damning in the wrong hands. So, the ever thoughtful Belmont had given me custody over them. In doing so, he had prevented my death. Or so he had thought. What I now suspected he had condemned me to instead was a long, toiling, agonisingly slow descent into madness from which I was certain I would not emerge.

But on the twelfth day...On the twelfth day, I had found them.

I had not slept. I insisted to myself, and to Sypha, when she had contacted me magically, via an enchanted slip of parchment we could exchange between the two of us, when we had the time, and energy, to do so, I did not need to sleep.

It was only a partial lie. With my father’s blood in me, I could withstand long periods without rest. But as my mother’s human heart beat within my chest so too it tired. I benefited from sleep. But at the moment, the price far outweighed the reward.

I had tried, once, after eight days, at Sypha, and Belmont’s, insistence. The mere sight of my room, the centre of my childhood, the one place untouched, where happy memories might still have lingered in the undisturbed dust we had left behind when the world had been a simpler place. But that had been where my father had spared me, and where I had killed him.

His blood still stained the floor. I had burned the carpets. I had burned every scrap of fabric in that room that had even a speck of blood. But the greedy wood of the floor had eagerly drunk in the new memories I had sullied my childhood innocence with, and I had not yet found a way to rid them of it.

My parents’ room was similarly haunted, and similarly off limits.

I had descended to the Belmont library, thinking something separate from my life might have helped. But as I had lain down among the high shelves, and dusty books, I felt his ancestors watching me, heard their ghosts pacing the walls, felt the burning stare of the eyeless skulls of _my_ ancestors, and I had rather lost my taste for that idea.

Finally, after wandering the echoing, endless castle for what felt like years, I had settled in the laboratory. The strange bubbling of unknown liquids, the revolving models of solar system, and the sparking of electricity across the ceiling at odd moments would likely have unsettled the masses. But to me, they were like lullabies.

Or they had been.

I had barely closed my eyes when a rush of images, and sounds, and _feelings_ , both the warmth of his blood against my skin, and the grief that had suddenly wrought my fragile human heart assaulted me.

I had fled from the room, and had not contemplated sleep since.

That had been four days ago. Now, teetering on the very edge of a snap of the sort I had not endured since that day, I found something that pulled me back.

In a dusty corner of my ruined bedroom, which I had been attempting to put back together, in small doses, for that was all I could handle on any given day, I found a tiny bookshelf, but it was not crammed with the books I had expected.

As a child, I had read everything with a hunger encouraged by both of my parents. My mother had given me books on anatomy, herbal plants, old medicines, and wounds. My father had supplied information on everything else. Anything I wanted, anything I desired, I had read. But not this.

I sank to my knees as I slid the first volume from its shelf, handling it as delicately as though it were a baby bird. A journal. It was a journal. One of my mother’s.

I felt something within me, something I had not known was still intact, however slightly, until that moment, break.

I opened it, and found pages covered with her neat handwriting. I traced the letters with the tip of a finger, as though they contained a spell by which I could return her to me, if only I could capture every neat contour of her words with my hands.

The first was dated some twenty years ago. It described her first meeting with my father, her journey through the treacherous landscape, and the forest of bones impaled upon spikes which had once made up our front garden. She described the castle, her first impressions of it, and of the man within.

I laughed as she described their first encounter, how she had spoken to him as an equal, and had not shown fear. How he had seemed so uncertain what to make of her, let alone what to do with her. I could well imagine his face, his tone of voice, as he was confronted by this single, impossibly stubborn, impossibly brilliant mortal woman who had been my mother.

And I wept. I wept because that light, and that stubborn brilliance, had winked out from the world. And it had taken my father, the man who had raised me, and loved me, and treated me always with gentleness, and kindness, whatever was said of him now, had gone with her.

I didn’t notice the passage of time as I combed through the journals. I did not move for food, or drink. I sat in the same position, on the floor of my old room, able to ignore, for the first time, the ghosts and demons that flared to life within my soul each time I set foot in it, consumed by my mother’s words.

Even in simple diaries, her vivaciousness and personality shone through. This was a fabulous discovery, a treasure of which no material value could possibly be attached. From beyond the grave, she reached out to me, and comforted me.

The diaries described her pregnancy, her initial hesitation, and my father’s initial terror, at what carrying a dhampir child to term might mean. Her refusal to accept the idea of seeking alternative ways to deal with her situation.

She wrote detailed observations of her pregnancy, marked with a doctor’s eye, filtered through the scientist’s lens, but punctuated, always, by her own unique signature, as she wondered here and there, how this might differ from a typical human pregnancy, and how it might be so much the same.

She described my birth, and made it quite clear to all that my father, while a wonderful, exception, incredible man, would be the worst midwife Wallachia had ever known.

To know the joy she had felt in my existence brought me such comfort now. Even though there were moments, when the world seemed its darkest, and quietest, that I wondered if she would still feel that way, knowing I had killed the man she had loved with all her heart.

I spent days with the books, reading, annotating, and making notes on the things she had discovered, the people she had saved, the wonders she had performed in twenty short years. There were periods when the diaries became lighter, and, to the best of my ability, I added to them, furthering them.

The world already knew the story of Dracula. Some parts of it even remembered the tale of Vlad Tepes. Prophecies that had been written about me were carried by the Speakers, and were solidifying themselves into legend, after what I had done to fulfil them.

With these diaries, and with a little help from a dear friend, I would make sure that history remembered the most important one of all. The one who had made Vlad, and Adrian Tepes, as well as Dracula, and Alucard. The one who had given so much more to this world than it had ever deserved, and received nothing in return, but kept doing it all the same.

The world would know the story of Lisa of Lupu.

Once I had a completed document, that contained all the facts of my mother’s life I wanted the world to know, and even some that I did not, but felt it should remember all the same, I settled myself in a quiet corner I had cleared of all my parents’ things, and dedicated to the future of this castle, and of myself, and summoned a certain piece of enchanted parchment.

_My dearest Sypha,_

_Firstly, let me say that I hope you are well, and that Belmont has not managed to get you into too much trouble, as of yet. Or, as might be more accurate, I hope that_ you _in turn have not dragged_ him _into more trouble than the two of you are able to handle._

_Secondly, I am of course pleased that you have both taken so swiftly, and successfully, to the adventuring life you have undertaken. This castle is rather large, however, I will say, and, at present, rather empty._

_Although I did find what seems to be an undead dog wandering around the place the other day. I felt I should really put the poor thing out of its misery, but as of the moment, it hasn’t displayed any. In fact, it’s rather affectionate, and has taken to following me when it can find me._

_I digress, however, I beg you’ll forgive me for that. The truth is, I would appreciate a little company, if you and your bear-sized oaf, Belmont happen to be passing this way, your presence would be appreciated. I admit, I worry about you, both of you, though it pains me to say that, and if you confess that fact to Belmont, Sypha, fond of you as I am, you will not be welcome in this castle._

_It would be good to see your faces again and, while you’re here, I discovered something of great importance to me, which I think would benefit you and your people greatly. If you need an excuse to convince Belmont to stop by and suffer me, be sure to tell him that._

_Hoping you are well, and that we can see each other soon, yours,_

_Alucard._

I snapped my fingers once, and the parchment vanished in a soft pulse of golden light, off to deliver itself to Sypha.

Hopeful they would arrive soon, I returned to my attempts at civilising the castle, and making it look as though a small vampire army had not recently used it as a battleground.

I waited in vain for Sypha’s reply, however. Several days passed, by which time I had become concerned enough to delve into the archives, and start checking whether I had performed the spell correctly, despite the fact I had done so numerous times before.

Finally, after over two weeks, just when I had begun considering summoning my own hellish army in order to find the rotten pair of them and bring them to me, I was given some sign they were both out there.

The sign arrived at precisely eight thirty in the morning, and it was neither small, nor subtle.

I was in the process of attempting to fit a collar with a bell on the damned dead dog, so I would at least have some warning before it jumped out at me and nearly frightened all the mortality from my bones, when the front doors of the castle banged loudly open, and silhouetted between them were two people I had no difficulty recognising.

“You fuckers,” I snapped, my voice rasping a little from disuse as I allowed the damnable creature to wriggle free to greet our guests, and rose to my feet.

“I hope you haven’t bitten anyone recently, with that kind of filth in your mouth,” Trevor drawled as he sauntered  idly into the room, looking for all the world as though he cared about nothing, and no-one, when in fact the truth was quite the reverse.

I was in the process of tossing a rude hand gesture in his direction, the same one we had parted with, if memory served, when Sypha hit me with the force of a small explosion.

She squeezed me so tightly, I felt sure some of my ribs cracked under the pressure, then said, “I’m sorry I didn’t write back, Alucard, but we were pretty close by, and I thought it would be nice to surprise you!”

“I’ve rather gone off surprises recently,” I muttered.

“Don’t be so miserable, batsy,” Trevor said, elbowing me in the ribs in what I assumed was intended to be a friendly way, “You’ve got guests! Where are your manners?”

“I fear I left them in my coffin in Greist. When I realised you were the one waking me, I knew I’d have no need of them.”

Trevor’s doubtless scathing reply was lost in Sypha’s delighted cry of “Oh!” as she spotted the dog, followed swiftly by an exclamation that was a combination of surprise, and mild disgust, as she realised its eyes was missing, along with half of its face.

“What is that thing?” she demanded, trying to shoo it away while it wagged its tail and attempted to lick her kneecaps.

“And should I kill it?” Trevor put in.

“Can you kill something that’s technically already dead?” I asked, fairly.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ve had a very long day, and I think I’m still hungover from a week ago,” Trevor groused.

“We don’t need to see your whip at the moment, Belmont, don’t worry, the creature is rather harmless. Though I understand why you might feel threatened by it,” I smirked. Trevor pouted, while Sypha bent down and cautiously patted the dog’s head.

“I think he likes me!” she said, delighted.

“Congratulations, an undead demon dog can stand to be around you,” Trevor deadpanned in response.

“I’ve named him, actually,” I said, as Sypha allowed the dog to scramble into her arms, and she picked it up, laughing as it attempted to lick every bit of her face.

“Really?” she said, happily, “What?”

“Tref,” I replied, promptly.

I had done no such thing. Not yet, at least. But it was worth telling them I had to watch Sypha double over with laughter, while Trevor blanched with abject horror, his face turning from chalk white, to bright red, so quickly I feared for a moment his head might explode.

“You, you heard that?” he spluttered, tone caught somewhere between horror and indignation.

“Tut, tut, Belmont,” I said, relieving Sypha of the squirming dog and setting it back down on the floor where it pranced gleefully around our ankles, “Not been doing your homework on basic vampire traits, I see.”

“I thought you were a dhampir,” he growled at me.

“Yes, and last time I checked, I wasn’t deaf, and you make enough noise that my father needn’t have bothered sourcing forgemasters, he could simply have taken you to a nearby cemetery and waited for the racket you produce to wake the dead there.”

“So,” Sypha said, very loudly, inserting herself pointedly between us, breaking up the conversation, “What was it you wanted to show me, Alucard?”

“You wanted to what?” Trevor said, distracted.

“You didn’t tell him?” I said, raising an eyebrow at Sypha.

“Tell me what?” Trevor demanded, looking between us.

“No,” Sypha said with a shrug and a grin, “I just told him that you  suggested we visit when we were nearby and he almost had us travelling night and day without sleep to get here.”

“Is that so?” I said, smirking at Trevor.

“It is not,” he said, then swivelled round to face Sypha, “I did not,” he hissed indignantly at her. Then he spun and faced me, finger raised, as though that would prove his point, “I did not,” he said, evidently trying to sound calm, rational, and certainly not as though he was lying through his teeth.

“We really do need to work on your bluffing skills, Belmont,” I said, lightly, leading them up the central staircase.

“I, we, I’m not-“ he spluttered, sounding rather like a hen trying to lay an overlarge egg. “ _Lying_ he said, finally, is not a _skill_.”

“Certainly not the way you do it,” I agreed, mildly.

Trevor proceeded to cluck in protest, and continued to do so until we reached my father’s study, where I had everything Sypha would need laid out.

She gasped as I opened the door and gestured her and Trevor inside. Immediately, she dashed across to the desk and began thumbing through all of the journals I had laid out upon it. Trevor only blinked.

“What are we supposed to be looking at?” he asked, blankly.

“I’m sorry, were you expecting the decapitated, half-rotten head of a hitherto unheard of creature of the night?”

“I mean...Yeah,” he said, almost defensively, shoving his hands grumpily in his pockets, “The zombie dog was more exciting than this...” he added under his breath.

“This is amazing, Alucard!” Sypha cried, hurrying over and taking my hand, before dragging me back to the table. “There are so many of them, all handwritten, and dated, and so well preserved. Where did you find them?”

“In, my roo- My old room,” I corrected myself.

Sypha gave my hand a soft squeeze.

Trevor ambled over and picked one of the books up, turning it over to see if it contained any clues on the back cover, which it did not.

“What exactly are they?” he asked no-one in particular.

“My mother’s journals,” I said, and he sobered at once. “Records that she kept of her work, and her life, for the last twenty years, ever since she met my father. There might be older ones, but if there are, they either aren’t here, or I haven’t managed to find them yet.”

Trevor was now looking a little green. He sidled closer to me and said, softly, “You should have told me what they were. I would never have- I mean, if I had known, I-“

“I know, I know,” I said, lightly, smiling at him, “Untangle your panties, Belmont, I’m not that easily offended.”

“I’m not wearing any,” he muttered, as though this was in any way a reasonable response to what I had just said.

I pulled a face in his direction, while he looked as though he wasn’t quite sure why, or how, those words had come out of his mouth either, then turned back to Sypha.

“I’d like you to do me a favour, Sypha,” I said softly.

“Of course,” she said, at once, “Anything.”

“Hang on,” Trevor interrupted, “He might ask to drain you dry of blood or anything. You can’t just go agreeing to his demands without hearing what they are.”

“Belmont!” Sypha erupted, furiously, elbowing him harshly in the ribs, “He is our friend! Don’t say such things about him!”

“Particularly not in his rather excellent hearing,” I added. Then I smiled lazily, tipped my head in towards him and said in a breathy whisper only he could hear, “Besides, that’s your job, darling.”

He blanched again, “What?”

I patted him lightly on the cheek, “You have to be of more use than just a pretty face, you know.”

Sypha laughed softly, and I returned my attention to her.

“What I would actually like from you, Sypha, is for you to take a copy of this condensed account I’ve made of her life, and her work. I do not want history to forget Lisa Tepes. Or rather, I do not want it to remember her only as the wife of Dracula, the woman whose death sparked a near genocide. She was worth more than that, she _deserves_ far more than that. She made extraordinary contributions to science and medicine, and she changed the lives of a great many people. I would like there to be some record of that, some part of the world that remembers her as she should be remembered.”

I withdrew a roughly bound copy of the notes I had made and pressed it into Sypha’s hands, “Take this, please,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “Read it. Memorise it. Share it with your people. Share it with the world. Do not let it forget her. Do not let it forget that, through all the darkness we have suffered, there was still light.”

Sypha clasped the book to her chest and bowed her head, a tear in her eye.

“Alright, Alucard, we didn’t all come here to be serenaded by philosophical poetry. Some of us just want some food, some beer, and a soft bed for the night,” Trevor interrupted.

I had never been more grateful for his balshy, sardonic attitude in all my life. And never thought I would be grateful for it at all.

“I think my mother would have liked you both,” I said quietly, smiling between the two of them.

“I feel like this is the highest praise you could give us,” Sypha said, quietly.

My smile widened, “Oh, I assure you it is.”

“The world won’t forget her, Alucard, I promise you. I will make it remember. _We_ will make it remember,” she told me, taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

“It’s likely to forget _me_ in a minute, though,” Trevor chimed in, “If I don’t get food soon, wasting away from hunger over here.”

“Well then we best not delay, Belmont,” I said, taking his arm and gripping it tightly with all of my considerable strength.

Then I teleported directly into the nearest kitchen.

Trevor cursed at me. Then looked around the room with a momentary flicker of approval gleaming in his eyes. Then he dived straight for the nearest sink to hurl his guts up into it.

I smiled vaguely. Teleportation was usually an... _Unsettling_ first time experience, particularly when the person was unprepared.

Sypha arrived in time to find me mildly opening cupboards and peering in at my ingredients asking, “What do you feel like, Belmont?”

“Fuck you, Alucard. Fuck you,” he growled, his voice echoing slightly, owing to the fact his head was still in the sink.

I laughed, without a trace of sadness, for the first time in what felt like several immortal lifetimes, a sudden lightness in my chest at the simple fact that I was no longer alone.

Warmth radiated from me, and a flicker of something like pride sparked in my chest. History would not forget my mother. The world would remember Lisa of Lupu. It did not right all my wrongs, and it could not assuage all of my grief, or guilt. But it was a start. It was a reason to keep going. For now. And for now, that was all I dared hope for.  

******************************************************************************

 

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't edited, and was entirely splurge written, because I just don't have the time for anything else at the moment, so it's a little rough around the edges. Also my first time trying to write Trevor and Sypha, and my first time having the three of these characters interact together. I hope I did them justice! As well as Alucard's relationship with his mother! 
> 
> Comments will fuel more Alucard angst, of which there is a lot inside me, but also it's Nano and I need Encouragement if you've got any to spare!


End file.
